Any Other Name for the Rose
by performativezippers
Summary: AU. Jane's wildly displeased by her new assignment: undercover bodyguard for the contestants on The Bachelor. But one of the women is different from the rest, and getting to know her might just make this whole dumb assignment worth the while.
1. Chapter 1

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Jane looks up from the paper in her hand, her jaw falling to the floor. "Is this a joke?"

"Sorry, Rizzoli. No joke. That's your new assignment." Her captain's face is dead serious.

"Bodyguard duty. My new assignment is bodyguard duty?" Incredulous.

"There's been a credible threat."

"Put patrol on it! Station an officer outside his door! What could you possibly need me for?" Italian hands, flying around the air in anger and frustration.

"We need a detective, Rizzoli. Someone who they'll trust, who can go behind the scenes. A patrol officer won't be able to get the level of access we need here."

"Okay, fine. But why me? I'm Narcotics!"

"We need a young woman. You're the best young female detective we've got."

A dark look, a resentful mutter. "I'm the only young female detective you've got."

"Then we're lucky that you're good." His façade cracks a little. "And so cooperative, too."

"Okay, fine. So it's undercover. Who am I undercoverly bodyguarding?"

He hands her a second piece of paper.

"Um, what the fuck is this?" At his raised eyebrow, she adds a hasty "Sir!"

"Your assignment, Rizzoli."

A long pause. "I'm sorry, I just – is this a joke?"

A groan. "God damn it, Rizzoli. No, it's not a god damned joke."

"Sorry, sir, I just…is this the right paper? Because this is an ad for _The Bachelor_, which seems like maybe you picked up on your personal time, or something, and isn't related to our…" He shakes his head. "Oh, fuck." He nods. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I'm going undercover on _THE BACHELOR_? What is this, fucking _Miss Congeniality_? Do I look like Sandra fucking Bullock to you?"

"No, Rizzoli, you're not going under as a contestant. You'll be the production assistant to the ladies. The producers got a lot of threats about violence against the female contestants. You'll be protecting them."

Jane drops her head into her hands for a moment before pulling up and looking him in the eye. "Not to gloss over the fact that you intimately know the plot of _Miss Congeniality_, but this sounds like the most convoluted and stupid way to prevent violence against a TV show that I've ever heard."

A long sigh. "I don't disagree with you, Rizzoli, but one of the producers is tight with the Commissioner, and these are the orders that were handed down. Now get out of here, go home, and pack your bags. You'll report to the set tomorrow."

Jane looks down at the paper in her hands for a long moment. "And you're sure this isn't a joke?"

"Good luck, Rizzoli."

"Fuck, sir."

* * *

This is the most motherfucking stupid thing she has ever done. She didn't have a lot of choice in the matter, of course, orders being orders, but still. The most motherfucking stupid thing.

She's wearing all black, which, apparently, will be her uniform for the next ten weeks. Her mane is pulled back into a slick ponytail and her practical shoes made the costumer nearly faint with horror. She's got a Michael Jackson headset and microphone attached to her face, which honestly makes her feel more like a McDonalds employee than a pop star. And certainly nothing like the respected detective she's worked her entire life to become. Six fucking months with the shield, and this is how she's rewarded. Babysitting a bunch of spoiled, stupid, overly made-up girls with nothing better to do than throw themselves at a heavily muscled douchebag on network TV.

Tonight is the first night of the show. Tonight, the douche will meet the ladies for the first time as each emerges from a limo and does her best to shock, seduce, and titillate him within five seconds. Jane was introduced to him a few moments ago, and he was exactly what she expected: from his douchey name (Brockton McTavish, are you fucking kidding me) to his douchey hair and smarmy smile, to the way he blatantly checked her out – absolutely no surprises there. Why anyone would choose to talk to him, not to mention choose to spend weeks fighting other girls for him, is completely beyond Jane.

The first limo pulls up, and the women start climbing out. They all look exactly the same. Blonde, thin as hell, very tan, vapid looking. As soon as they leave Brockton (seriously, _Brockton_? Vomit) and enter the house, Jane walks over and introduces herself. Her task tonight is to memorize each woman's name and face, so she can start matching the physical realities to the files she has at home. As soon as the fifth one comes in, Jane realizes this will be much harder than she imagines. She's always prided herself on her good memory, but the horrifying sameness of each of these women begins to totally baffle her.

Wave after wave of women arrive, carrying with them the cloying scent of too much perfume and a grating high pitched titter of nervous excitement. _Natural blonde, dyed blonde, natural blonde dyed brunette to be edgy, obligatory person of color, dyed blonde, dyed blonde with obvious fake boobs, natural blonde_ – the parade seems endless. Tempting as it is to remember them by their dresses (black backless, black backless sparkles, red backless sparkles!), tomorrow the dresses will be different but the threat will be just as real. With a sigh, Jane forces her brain to remember and tries to still the horrible flashbacks of trying to memorize the periodic table high school chemistry.

Finally, after about 20 girls have flirted with Brockton and entered the house, someone different comes in. Jane notices her immediately. The air in the house seems to change. The air around this girl is different. Jane hangs back for a moment, watching her watch the other women. She doesn't approach them, instead she holds herself just slightly apart – not quite hovering, but nearly. She's gorgeous, and to the untrained eye she might seem like the rest – honey blonde, beautiful, kicking body. But while they look sexy or gaudy or opulent, she just looks classy. While their make-up and hair look like they took hours, somehow hers, while just as flawless looking, just seems natural. While they're sizing each other up and fighting for positions already, she merely stands there, watching, with her head slightly cocked to the side.

She's different.

Just as Jane is about to walk up to her, the producer signals Jane to pull back. Brockton is about to enter the house, and Jane has to remain off-camera. She'll meet the final few girls, including this fascinating enigma in a moment.

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Jane pays special attention to this woman. Jane notices when she finally begins to engage with the other girls. Jane notices that it doesn't seem to go very well: every time the woman approaches someone new, they extricate themselves quickly. The woman's face is impressively neutral, a perfect poker face. Half of her cop brain is telling Jane to investigate this woman as a threat – what the hell other reason would this impassive woman have for being surrounded by woo girls for the next ten weeks?

But the other half is just drawn to her.

Finally, the cameras leave the group of women to focus on Brockton and his one-on-one time with some of the girls, and Jane gets the chance to introduce herself.

She finds the woman standing outside on the balcony overlooking the lights of Boston. She's slightly bent over, leaning with her forearms against the railing, one heeled foot gently crossed over the other. As Jane approaches, she gently drops her head into her arms. Jane feels the movement deep in her chest.

"Not really hitting it off with the other girls, huh?"

The woman tenses, then takes a beat before lifting her head. She turns her face to Jane, her impassive mask seamless, leaving her body square to the night.

"No, I suppose not."

"Why do you think that is?"

The woman cocks her head, scrutinizing Jane. It's all Jane can do not to squirm. It goes on for far too long before the woman finally turns back to the view, leaving Jane to stare at her profile. "I suppose we don't have much in common."

Jane leans her right hip against the railing, squaring her body toward the woman. "What do you mean?"

"One of them is a babysitter. One is trying to be an actress, another a model. One sells cosmetics."

Jane waits for the rest of the sentence, but it never seems to come. Finally, she prompts. "So?"

"I'm a forensic pathologist. I cut open dead bodies for a living. I spent two years in Africa identifying victims of plagues and genocides."

Softly. "Oh."

The woman looks wryly over at Jane. "Yeah. Oh."

The sorrow in her eyes shoots down into Jane's body and lodges somewhere underneath her ribs. It feels like a blue shard of ice, embedding itself into her body and drawing her into this woman. She's never felt someone else's sorrow so deeply. She's never wanted to make someone smile more than she does now. But that's weird, it's strange, it's scary. It scares her in a new and visceral way. She drops her gaze to her feet. "So, um, why'd you sign up for this? I mean, what's the appeal for someone…like you?"

Without turning to Jane, the woman expels a breath that sits on the line between a laugh and a sob. "I'm not sure I know anymore."

The shard twists inside Jane.

A few beats. "Are you okay?"

The woman studies her hands, clasped out in front of her, hanging out into the night. She seems to be actually considering the question. Finally, she responds. "Yes. Yes, I'm okay." She unclasps her hands, and straightens all the way up, floating her hands down to the railing. She looks at Jane. "Are you okay?"

Jane is struck by the question. She was expecting "what's your name" or "why are you here" or "what's your job." But instead, this woman cut right to the chase. Is she okay?

Jane smiles. "Yeah, I'm okay."

A long beat. The woman turns her head away again, looking out at the night.

Softly. "I'm Maura."

"Jane."

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know why this is happening, but it is.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane isn't surprised when Maura is given a rose and invited to stay on the show. A few girls sob as they leave the house, crying about the love that might have been. Jane does her best not to laugh in their faces. This entire premise is absurd. The idea that someone could have fallen that hard, hard enough to sob, for a stranger in just one night – preposterous.

But, then again, if Maura had been sent home, Jane would have been…disappointed. Frustrated, sad, even. She wouldn't have sobbed though. Because that's just absurd.

But still, she's irrationally pleased that Maura will be sticking around. After Brockton leaves for the evening with his entourage, Jane and her production team release the women into the mansion to run around, squeal for the cameras, and jostle for the best bedroom spaces. One everyone is settled down for the night, Jane slips up to the top floor to begin her sweep of the house. Everything is quiet, secure, safe. No danger yet.

Making it down to the small living room in the back of the house, not a room they'll film in much, but just a cozy little corner of couches and big screen tv, Jane lets out a breath. Day one, down. Only about 70 left until this stupid show is over and she can go home. Jane grabs a beer out of the minifridge and flops onto her back on one of the couches, turning on the Red Sox game and darting her eyes to the monitors in the corner that show the outer perimeter of the house.

After a few relaxing moments, she hears soft footsteps approaching and then stopping a few feet away. Jane lifts her head and sees Maura standing uncertainly in the doorway. She's wearing black leggings and an oversize off-the-shoulder sweater over what looks like a tank top. She's still made up but has glasses perched on top of her head. She's barefoot and holding a thick white magazine.

"Hey." Jane says it softly, because Maura looks like a startled animal.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone to be down here. I'll go somewhere else." She turns to go.

"Maura, hey, relax. If you want to be alone, I get it, but if you'd like to read in here, I can put the game on mute."

"I don't want to bother you."

Jane can sense that Maura, despite her words, wants to stay. "You won't be bothering me. Please, sit down."

Maura nods, and then softly slips into the room. She settles herself on the other couch, sitting primly in the corner, her magazine on her lap. "Thank you. All the girls in my room wanted to go to sleep, but I wasn't tired yet, so…"

Jane smiles at her. "Here, lemme mute this."

"No, no, it's fine. I can read through anything."

An eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Of course."

"Good skill." Jane turns her eyes back to the game, but of her attention is still taken up by Maura. Jane notices the way she slips the glasses down onto her face and opens the magazine to the bookmarked page. Jane notices when she's finally so absorbed in the reading that she forgets about her body, tucking her legs up under her, leaning against the arm of couch, and pulling the magazine closer to her face. Jane notices how she underlines, crosses out, and annotates every page.

After about half an hour of companionable silence, Jane turns to her. "This game is terrible."

For a few seconds it seems like Maura wasn't exaggerating and literally didn't hear her. But then she sees Maura dragging her eyes off the paper. Almost as if she's a robot, Jane can see her brain slowly click from reading mode to human interaction mode. "What makes it terrible?" She finally asks softly.

"They're losing." Jane deadpans.

"Sorry, who is losing?"

"Um, the Red Sox?" It's not a question, but it comes out like one.

"That's your team, I suppose?" Tentative.

"Maura, you're in Boston. The Red Sox are everybody's team."

"Oh, I see."

"Including yours."

Maura does her best to hide the rush of pleasure that courses through her. She has a team. The same team as everyone else around her. In her struggle to control herself, she forgets to respond, stalling the conversation. Once she realizes her faux pas, she desperately casts her mind around for an appropriate topic she can bring up, but every topic she alights upon is wildly inappropriate for this situation. _Genocide. Desiccation rates of human versus bovine flesh. The average bacterial count on a passed tray of appetizers at a gala dinner._

Luckily, Jane doesn't have the same problem. She levers herself up to a seated position. "Whatcha reading?" Maura inserts her bookmark and flips the magazine closed, handing it to Jane. "Oh, of course. The _Journal of Forensic Pathology_. Silly me, I must have left my copy at home."

Maura's eyes light up. As she leans towards Jane, the shy hesitant girl completely falls away, and in her place is an excited, passionate, and confident woman. "Oh, Jane, do you read the _Journal_? You really must read this issue; the paper on rehydration of desiccated dermal tissue is exquisite! Nash's treatment of kidney crystallization is quite sophomoric, as I must say most of his work is, but Gerith's analysis of the flawed implications of patella fracture patterns in multiple attacker scenarios is simply brilliant!"

Jane holds up her hands in surrender, laughing. "Whoa, whoa, Maura, I was kidding! I was kidding!"

Maura's face completely falls. "…Wh-what?"

"I don't read the _Journal of Forensic Pathology_, sorry. And I didn't really understand anything you said, but it all sounded like it would be super cool, if I knew what it was."

Shy hesitant girl is back. Maura looks down into her lap. "I…I'm sorry."

"No, c'mon, no, don't apologize. I was being a jerk. I'm sorry. Will you, um, would you tell me about what those things are that you were talking about?"

"I think I should be getting to bed." She unfurls her feet back to the ground and begins to rise.

Jane reaches out and grabs her wrist. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Please, stay, and use smaller words. I really want to know what you were talking about."

Maura looks down at Jane's hand on her wrist, clearly uncertain.

"Please?"

A breath, and then Maura nods and softly returns to the couch.

"Okay, spill."

Maura looks around her, horrified that she might be sitting in Jane's spilled beer.

"I mean, explain."

"Which article would you like me to explain to you?"

"Whichever one you like the most."

Maura reaches over and gently takes the _Journal_ out of Jane's hands. She flips to a page she's folded down and begins to speak.

Jane smiles softly, and then turns her full attention to absorbing every word this beautiful woman is saying.

* * *

The next morning, about half the girls go out for a "date" with Brockton. As soon as they're gone, Jane returns to her room and puts on her running clothes. As she's tying her hair back, she's startled by a soft knock.

"Come in!" She calls, not bothering to turn around from where she rummaging in her suitcase for a shirt.

"Um, hello."

Jane straightens up and turns around, smiling brightly. "Hey, Maura! What's up?"

Maura's eyes seem glued to her abs. Jane looks down self-consciously at her sports bra. "I know I must have packed some shirts somewhere." She says to try and break the tension.

"You have extremely well defined abdominal and oblique muscles, Jane. Definition like that is quite difficult for most females to achieve because of an anatomy oriented to safe gestation."

"Uh, thank you?"

Maura suddenly seems to realize that she's been ogling Jane's stomach, and snaps her eyes up to Jane's face. She rushes to speak through the blush that's creeping up her neck. "You're, um, going for a run?"

"Yeah, if I can ever find a shirt."

An awkward silence fills the room. Finally, Jane breaks the tension. "Would you like to join me?"

Too quickly, "Oh yes!" Then a beat. "Or were you just offering to be polite? I can never quite tell."

Jane smiles. There is something about this woman that's just so goofy. "No, I meant it. Go change and meet me downstairs in five minutes. Is that enough time?"

Maura hesitates. "Make it seven?"

"Deal."

Maura flashes her a beautiful grin. "Deal."

* * *

Finding the perfect running partner is hard. They can't be too much faster or slower, obviously, but it's more than that. It's about vibe. What if you want to listen to music and they want to talk? Or they like to push it for the first ten minutes and you like to push it at the end? What if they like hills and you like distance? What if they want to stop and talk to everyone you pass? What if all they talk about is the data from their nike fit app?

Maura, thank god, is the perfect running partner. She and Jane playfully challenge each other for the first mile or so until they settle into a perfect groove. Jane has one ear bud in, and Maura runs without music. They don't talk much, but it's not weird. It's just great.

After about five miles, they slow to a walk to cool off. Jane pulls the ear bud out.

"What were you listening to?"

"Um, mostly hip hop. I just need a good beat for running."

Maura nods.

"Do you always run without music?" Jane asks, still breathing heavily.

"Yes. I usually just think."

"About what?"

Maura looks over, like she's checking if Jane is genuinely asking her. It twists the blue shard of ice under Jane's ribs to know that so few people have ever really wanted to know what she's thinking about.

"I usually use the time to think about any pressing questions from work, or any scientific anomalies that are challenging me. Sometimes about the book I'm reading or an artwork I've seen."

"Is that, um, I mean, do you find that fun?"

Maura draws her eyebrows together, puzzled. Jane presses on. "I mean, I have to listen to something fun, otherwise I can't get myself to start running."

Maura cocks her head, considering. "I'm not sure 'fun' is the word I would use, but I find it very pleasurable. And calming. I like having the time to just think, to puzzle things out."

"Cool." They share a soft smile before heading back into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane spends the rest of the day working through her files on each of the girls. Running background checks, financials, known associates or priors. A couple of the girls ping the system for having boyfriends arrested for drugs or domestic violence charges. Jane makes a note of their names and resolves to keep a close eye on how Brockton treats them. But, other than a veritable slew of traffic violations and underage drinking citations, she ends the night with nothing. None of these women seem at all suspicious. Organizing and hiding the files, Jane decides to leave her investigation of the crew for the next night. With a groan, she realizes that it's after midnight and her shift with the women starts at 6am.

This job totally sucks.

But, as she drifts off to sleep, somehow she isn't thinking about how much the job sucks. She's thinking about one particular young woman with flashing green eyes and a wicked smile buried deep beneath a powerful façade.

* * *

She spends the morning making sure the ladies are fed, made up, and ready for the second group date of the week. Jane's assigned to babysit this one, which would be a total drag except that Maura's going on it. The date card (the useless plot device that gives a totally transparent clue about the date) said something about "horsing around," which only a couple of the girls were too stupid to realize meant horseback riding. When Jane finally gathers all of them in the living room, she's unsurprised to see that a few are wearing shorts and flip-flops, wildly impractical horse attire. Maura, of course, Jane is pleased to note, is wearing stretchy jeans and knee-high boots with a sturdy two-inch heel. Jane is neither allowed nor inclined to tell the dumbies to change. With a wink to Maura, she just ushers them all into the limo for their "date."

The ranch is about an hours drive from the mansion. This part of western Massachusetts is beautiful, with rolling hills and a surprising amount of farmland. Jane loves it. Of course, it would be better if she weren't in charge of entertaining 12 bored young women while the cameras set up for their shot of the legs emerging from the limo.

This shit is just so stupid.

But, finally, emerge they do.

Some of them squeal about the horses, gush about their childhood love of horses, and run around, enjoying the fresh air. A few look haughty and bored, ambling toward the barn and asking each other if they think Brockton will be shirtless. Two of them clutch each other in a blind panic. "OH MY GOD, NOT HORSES. I'M SO FUCKING SCARED OF HORSES." "Say it again, but don't curse this time." "OH MY GOD, NOT HORSES. I'M SO EFFING SCARED OF HORSES." "Great." Jane takes a mental bet with herself that they'll cry by the end of the date.

Maura, in the meantime, has wandered over the corral and enticed a stunningly beautiful chestnut over to her. As Jane approaches her, she climbs onto the fence to better scratch behind the lucky bastard's ears, muttering softly to it. She settles herself astride the fence, leaning back against one of the posts, with the horse's head in her hands. She looks like a motherfucking goddess.

"Made a new friend?"

Maura looks over at her, quizzically.

"The horse, Maur."

"Oh. Um, well, I suppose. I don't know much about that, though."

"What, about horses? You seem to be doing a pretty good job there."

"No." A pause. She takes a breath. "About having a friend. I…don't really, have, um…"

The blue shard under Jane's ribs expands and twists, cracking her ribs and nearly puncturing her lung. _Make her smile, make her smile_. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Instead of smiling, Maura just looks even more confused. "…Liver?"

Jane half-laughs, half-groans. "I mean, hello, kind of rude to say you don't have any friends when I'm standing right here, isn't it?"

Maura is startled. She's never considered this. "I – um, are you…?"

Jane gets a most serious look on her face, and says in her deepest voice, "Most assuredly yes."

She's expecting a blinding smile, but instead, Maura ducks her head so Jane can just see a smile teasing her mouth and blush creeping up her neck. After a moment, she looks back up and catches Jane's eyes. She's controlling her mouth, but her eyes are grinning. It's the fucking cutest thing Jane has ever seen.

_Make her smile again, make her smile again_. "And you're in luck, you know. Cause that horse might be a bigger friend than I am, but I'm the friend who smells better, and that's what counts."

The producers call them over to line up for Brockton.

Maura kisses the horse on the nose, and slides off the fence in a fluid motion. She walks past Jane, then pauses and turns her head to make smoldering eye contact. "Oh, Jane," she says, in a wildly seductive voice. "You know size doesn't matter if you're doing it right." And with a wink, she's gone.

* * *

As expected, a few of the girls cry about getting on the horses. Brockton has to comfort them with his giant beefy arms before they do it. They say things like "love is about trust" and force themselves to do it. Jane feels bad for them. Others nearly cry about having to put on chaps and loaner boots to ride. Jane feels gleeful about them.

Many of the girls have been on horses before, but, simply because he's there, they all need Brockton to help them up. All, except one. Sweet, beautiful, totally oblivious Maura has already swung up onto her horse without the aid of man or machine, and is currently putting it through its paces in the ring. Before most of the girls have figured out which way is go and which is stop, Maura and her horse are jumping over some of the very low jumps set up around the perimeter. She's graceful and sleek, totally one with the horse. And totally doing the one thing that will make the other girls hate her.

They think she's showing off, but she's just enjoying herself. This is something she can do, so she's doing it. The cameramen zoom in on her, and then on other girls throwing shade on her. Jane cringes, but can't interfere. To Jane, it's obvious. Maura doesn't know the rules of girl world. But all she can do is watch.

The rest of the date, unfortunately for Maura, is the same. The other girls pretend to be worse at riding than they are so Brockton will come over and mansplain some things to them. The rest gossip together and pay as little attention as possible to their horses. Maura rides a bit off to the side, speaking softly to her horse and making it do some complicated things with its feet.

The ride ends at a riverbank, already set up for a picnic. The girls purposefully exclude Maura, and she eats on the corner of a blanket with most of the women's backs to her. Her façade is perfect. She seems undisturbed, and a little conceited, but Jane's seen happy Maura, and she knows it isn't this. The shard in her gets colder, more brittle, and threatens to snap her in half.

The ride back to the limo is excruciating for Jane, who is ridiculously following the horses in golf cart with another PA. Maura tries to speak with a couple of the girls twice, and each time she's rebuffed so quickly and sharply that Jane can't believe there isn't a sound effect. When they reach the corral again, Maura walks her horse over to the corner and slides off him quickly. As Jane grabs a load of picnic supplies out of the cart, she sees Maura reach up and hug her horse. Supplies forgotten, Jane's heart breaks as she watches Maura cling to the horse, taking slow deep breaths that seem to catch every once in a while, making her back shake a bit.

The shard punctures a lung.

After a moment, Maura collects herself, pulls away from the horse, and with a last kiss on his nose, walks into the limo and doesn't look back.

* * *

After the ranch, everyone goes to a French restaurant back in Boston for dinner. Maura sits at the end of the table, the furthest from Brockton. Their waiter has a thick accent, and is clearly struggling to understand the orders. When it's her turn, Maura orders in perfect French. The man chats her up for a moment, and then asks her some clarifying questions about the other orders. She flawlessly and gracefully answers all his questions and deflects his flirtations. By the end of the meal, he's clearly in love with her, Brockton has no idea who she is, and all the other girls hate her a little more.

And she knows it.

* * *

That night Jane finds her curled up in the corner of the small living room, reading a different journal. She's showered and changed into loungewear. She's washed off all her makeup and she looks beautiful and vulnerable. Jane hovers in the doorway, trying to decide if Maura wants to be alone or if she'd welcome Jane's company. She watches as Maura reaches up to silently wipe away a tear, without taking her eyes off the page she's reading. What really breaks Jane's heart isn't that Maura's crying. It's how practiced she clearly is at this. At wiping her own tears, at working through her own pain alone. At barely noticing the tears.

Before she's made a decision, Jane's inside the room, sitting down quietly next to Maura.

"Rough day, huh?"

After a moment, Maura nods softly. "Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"I thought…I don't know. I thought it would be different."

Jane doesn't know what to say. After a few moments, Maura continues. She speaks softly, calmly. She reminds Jane of a true believer at confession. "I know that being good at something isn't always a good thing. I learned as a child that being the best in classes meant no one wanted to be friend. I learned that winning at fencing or getting the solos in ballet meant that everyone hated me. I know that. I **know** that. But, I just…I hate it. I hate it and I don't understand it. We went horseback riding and I'm good at horseback riding and I don't understand why that made them hate me. And I was sent to boarding school in France when I was ten, and I speak French, and for some reason that I simply cannot grasp, that's appalling to them. And I just – God, I just want…" She drops her head into her knees. "I don't know."

Jane reaches over and rubs her back softly, saying nothing. Maura hasn't finished yet.

"I feel like I've been lied to my whole life, and I've lied to myself too – I've always believed that being the best was good, that if I worked hard and became good, exceptional, at something, I'd be admired. But never once, never once has it happened." Her breath catches, just for a moment. "I just want, for once in my life, for being good at something to actually make me happy."

The shard has taken over Jane's entire torso, stealing her breath. All she can do is rub Maura's back and try to clear the red from her vision before she murders all the other girls in their beds. After a few moments, she casts around for something to ask Maura, something that might bring her back a bit.

"You seemed like you were having a good time with that horse this afternoon. Were you making it do something weird with its feet?"

Maura lifts her head off her knees. Her eyes are dry but red, and Jane has to resist the urge to gently touch her face. She looks at her hands. "I – yes. It's called dressage. I used to compete in it, at school."

"Were you any good?"

Maura looks up at Jane, sharply. Sensing only comfort and safetly, she nods once, dropping her gaze back down to her hands.

"Was it fun?"

An unexpected chuckle rumbles out of Maura. She rubs a hand over her face and leans back, finally unfolding her body as she reclines against the cushions.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"I don't know if I'd call it fun, but there was one time in college, I don't know what came over me, but they were cutting the funding to our equestrian program, and I was quite upset. So I competed in a big dressage competition completely naked."

Jane's brain misfires a couple times. "You – what?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Jane leans back, mirroring Maura and ending up a bit closer to her. "Sounds…uncomfortable."

Maura laughs. "Yes, quite."

_I made her laugh, I made her laugh_. A moment of companionable silence.

"Did you get the funding back?"

Maura turns her head to look over at Jane. "Yes. Yes we did."

"Nice."

"I was pleased."

"I bet you were." Jane softly punches Maura's arm, because she's feeling a lot of things and has no idea what to do with them.

"Hey!" Maura swats her arm away and somehow ends up dropping her head onto Jane's shoulder.

"No, seriously though, Maura, that's awesome. Doing something like that – it's pretty badass."

"Really?" Her voice is small, pleased.

"Yeah, totally badass."

Jane can feel Maura's soft smile shrinking and softening the icy blue shard, extricating it from her lungs and nestling it back below her ribs.

For a few moments, neither dares to move for fear of disturbing this precious unspoken equilibrium. But, after a while, Maura stirs and announces that it's bedtime. Jane walks her to her door, but before she turns away, Jane simply cannot resist one more thing.

"See, I told you I was a better friend than that horse."

Maura's soft smile turns positively wicked. "Indeed, you are. But remember: my last friend was my horse in college, and I rode her naked." She opens the door and tosses the last words over her shoulder. "For hours."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, favorites, and reads. I know this is ridiculous, but here we all are. I really appreciate your support, ideas, and encouragement.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day is a pool party before the big rose ceremony, where Brockton will say goodbye to two more girls. Pool parties obviously let both Brockton and the audience see the girls in bikinis, so the producers have already told Jane to prep for several more day-long pool escapades in the coming weeks.

Jane, in her ubiquitous black, is standing around the pool, sweating balls, as the girls trickle out of the house and cover themselves with tanning lotion. It's her job to be attuned to the comings and goings of the girls, but it's not professionalism that makes Jane aware of the moment that Maura emerges.

Unsurprisingly, her bathing suit, while still a bikini, is slightly less revealing and slightly more sexy than the other girls'. She looks fucking phenomenal. She heads over to a lounge chair and gently covers herself in SPF 50 before angling an umbrella over her head and settling down with yet another thick medical journal. It isn't two minutes before a producer hustles over and pulls the journal from her hands, replacing it with _Vogue_. As soon as his back is turned, Maura makes eye contact with Jane. Maura quirks an eyebrow and Jane rolls her eyes. Maura's smile crinkles the corners of her eyes, and she wrinkles her nose just a bit.

Jane feels a lot of feelings.

Maura opens the _Vogue_, and focuses on it just as intently as she does her journals, folding down several pages and at times bringing the magazine right up to her face to examine something.

It's endearing as shit.

A few hours later and Jane is absolutely sweltering. Summer in Boston isn't kind to begin with, and the combination of heat and humidity certainly isn't doing anything for Jane's hair, complexion, or attitude. All of the girls, including Maura, have taken several dips into the pool, and all of the girls, except for Maura, have gotten in splash flights with Brockton or tried to get on his shoulders. Maura tried to speak to him once, outside of the pool. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at her body, but he didn't seem the least bit interested in what she had to say. Once he'd seen enough of her cleavage to tide him over, he promptly jumped in the water to flirt with someone else, splashing Maura in his haste to get away.

Brushing the droplets off her arms and stomach, she'd gone back to her chair and buried her nose in her magazine.

Jane knows that she'll be eliminated tonight. It's not really a question. Jane's conflicted about it. Maura is the only person she actually likes talking to, not to mention these weird extra feelings, so she'll be kind of devastated when the doctor leaves the mansion. But watching Maura be rejected by people who don't even deserve the right to be near her is more painful than Jane could have imagined. Maybe letting Maura get out of this toxic hellhole will be the best thing, and it's not like Jane can't call her, or hang out with her when this ridiculous assignment is over.

Never seeing Maura again honestly doesn't cross her mind as a possibility of how life could be.

Lost in thought about what it would be like to see Maura outside of this house, when she can be Detective Rizzoli again, Jane doesn't notice anything amiss until a girl screams.

"OH MY GOD! CHLOE!"

Jane's head snaps around, and it takes her only a second to process that one of the girls is floating face down in the pool, her arms and legs spread eagled in the water.

Instantly, several things happen.

More screams fill the air. The closest producer jumps into the water. He and one of the least hysterical girls flip Chloe over and pull her to the edge of the pool. She's not coughing or moving on her own.

Maura leaps out of her chair and is at the side of the pool in a second, helping them pull the limp body out of the water. She and another girl lay her out on her back and Maura kneels next to her, immediately getting to work.

"SHE'S DEAD, OH MY GOD, SHE'S DEAD." Maura ignores the hysterical screams and, for once, her calm façade seems to be helping. Everyone falls silent.

She pulls her own wet hair out of her way, and listens for a breath while she feels for a pulse. Sitting up on her knees, she begins compressing Chloe's chest, rhythmically compressing and compressing. She looks up, making eye contact with a cameraman and a producer. "You, call an ambulance, now. You, bring me the big med kit. Run."

After what feels like forever, Maura stops compressing her chest and quickly runs her hands down Chloe's neck before tilting her head back and beginning mouth-to-mouth.

The sound of techno dance remixes horribly permeates the air. No one has turned it off. Most of the girls are huddled in groups, holding each other and sobbing softly. Brockton and the girl he was having alone time with coming running up and he immediately takes three girls in his arms as he processes what's happening. The cameramen continue to film.

Jane is rooted to the ground.

Mid-way through the second round of chest compressions, something changes. Like a miracle, Chloe starts to cough.

Maura quickly rolls her onto her side, letting Chloe weakly cough out the water onto Maura's legs. With one hand, Maura holds her neck still, and with the other she rubs small circles into Chloe's back. Only now does she start to speak. "That's it, that's it. You're okay. You're okay, mchumba. You're okay. Just keep breathing, okay, Chloe? You're doing great."

As her coughing begins to slow, Maura, still muttering soft reassurances to her, starts intently feeling her neck and head. She looks up at the person closest to her, a girl named Kelly who seems to have kept her head. "I need an unopened bottle of water and two clean towels. Right now." Kelly runs.

The cameraman runs up with the big med kit, and Maura digs in it, pulling out a couple things, but clearly not finding what she wants. She orders him to bring her a magazine off a nearby lounge chair, and she quickly rolls it up to use as a stethoscope for a few seconds. "Okay, mchumba, you're doing great. I need you stay nice and still for me, okay?" Maura keeps speaking softly as she shines a penlight into each of her eyes. She asks Chloe her name and address as she softly manipulates arms and legs, checking for fractures. She has her recite the alphabet while wiggling her fingers and toes and seems satisfied with everything she finds. "Great job, Chloe. You're doing great, you're going to be just fine, mchumba."

Kelly comes back with the towels and water. Maura rolls one up and edges it under Chloe's neck to keep her head still before rolling her onto her back once again. Then she opens the water bottle, and Chloe clearly starts away from it. Maura places a calming hand on her head, and smiles down at her softly. "You're not going to drink it, mchumba. I just need to clean out this cut on your head. Don't worry, okay chu?"

At a soft nod, Maura carefully pours the water onto her forehead, tenderly keeping it out of her eyes. Patting the area dry with the other towel, Maura gently applies butterfly bandages as the paramedics finally run in.

Without even making eye contact, Maura asserts her dominance. Keeping her hands on Chloe, Maura merely says, "I'm Doctor Maura Isles. Concussion, no apparent skull fracturing, and near drowning. Hand me your stethoscope so I can finish my examination." She holds out her hand like a surgeon on TV, and, after the paramedic hesitantly places it in her palm, she quickly listens to Chloe's breathing. "Good job, chu." She smiles at Chloe and then turns to the paramedics, speaking quickly and technically about what she's found. She secures the neck brace on Chloe herself, and then, in a remarkable show of strength, helps them lift her onto the stretcher.

Chloe won't let go of her hand. Maura reaches down and brushes some of Chloe's hair out of her face. "They're just going to take you for some tests, Chloe. You're going to be perfectly fine. You'll be home tomorrow, okay, chu?"

"Thank you," Chloe whispers.

Maura smiles, squeezes her hand, and lets the paramedics wheel her away.

There is a moment of silence.

"Oh my god," a soft voice breaks through. "That was the scariest thing I've ever seen." Soft agreements ripple through the girls as they squeeze each other and wipe their eyes.

Suddenly, Maura looks small and tired, standing alone in the middle of an empty expanse of deck. Jane realizes that she's still in just her bathing suit, covered in regurgitated pool water and faint traces of blood. Jane grabs a robe and goes to bring it over, but a producer pulls it out of her hands. "Brockton. Bring this over to her."

Brockton does as he's told, and Jane tries to keep her feet rooted to the ground, even though every cell in her body is screaming for her to run over to Maura and gather her up and hold her for a couple hours.

Maura accepts the robe, and Brockton steers her over to seat for a private conversation. Jane wrenches her attention away from them and does her best to soothe the other girls and straighten up the deck. Sooner than she expects, she feels a small hand on her back. Straightening up and turning around, she sees Maura. "I'm going to take a shower," the doctor says softly.

Jane reaches up and gently tucks a piece of hair behind Maura's ear. "Do you need anything?"

Maura smiles and leans into the eye contact. "No, thank you." She reaches out and gently touches Jane's hip. "Thank you for the robe."

Jane's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can say anything else, Maura is already gone.

* * *

They decide to still have the rose ceremony tonight, which Jane finds insane but unsurprising. All the girls are reserved, but do their best to perform for the cameras and Brockton.

Maura gets the first rose, and she's the only one surprised by it. Brockton makes a big speech about how lucky they all are to have her, and she does her best to look demure and pleased. He video chats Chloe to offer her the second rose and, from her hospital room, she gleefully accepts. The producers nod happily to each other at how well that worked out.

After the roses are given out, and two heartbroken girls leave, the rest swarm around Maura, asking her rapid fire questions about Chloe.

"What actually happened to her?"

"Her injuries are consistent with what I might expect to find from someone who jumped into a pool, hit their head against the bottom or side, and, once unconscious, breathed in a great deal of water."

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"In medical school."

"Have you ever saved anyone before?"

"Yes."

"Was that the scariest thing you've ever seen?"

Maura looks over at Jane in a panic, and she immediately sweeps in, ushering the girls off to their dinner. Maura turns to follow them, but Jane reaches out and grabs her hand. "You okay?" She asks softly.

Maura nods, clearly trying to put her mask back on.

"Hey," Jane says softly, squeezing her hand. When Maura's eyes meet her own, she smiles down at her. "You're a badass, remember?"

Maura chuckles softly and squeezes back once before dropping Jane's hand, squaring her shoulders, and walking resolutely into the dining room.

* * *

Later that night, Jane is lying in bed, not quite asleep. The lights are off, but she doesn't need them to see the flashbacks of the day playing on a loop in her head. It's only when images of another body, wracked with pain and abuse, flickers over Chloe's that she rubs her hands over eyes, and it's only when the smell of smoke mixes with chlorine in her memory that she groans, flips on the light, and sits up, scratching her scalp and trying to will her brain to quiet down.

A soft knock at the door has her reaching for her gun before she comes to her senses and calls out, "Come in."

Maura stands hesitantly in the doorway, one hand up on the jamb and the other tucked behind her back. She's wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants that fall to just below her knees. She's barefoot and looks about ten years younger than Jane has ever seen her.

"Hey." Jane's voice is huskier than usual in the darkness, and Maura shudders softly.

"I, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."

"I was just…there are other people in our living room, and I, um…"

She's flustered and it's adorable. Jane doesn't miss that she's called it _our living room. Ours. _Her heart contracts happily while her stomach flips around like a tumbleweed in a windstorm.

"Hey." Softly. "Come in."

Maura gently slips inside and closes the door slowly behind her. She looks around, and Jane belatedly realizes that she's looking for somewhere to sit and has only just now noticed the distinct lack of chair. Jane pulls back the covers and pats the spot next to her.

"Oh, no, I couldn't—"

"It's the bed or the floor, Maur. Come on, don't be an idiot."

Maura eases into the bed, and leans against the wall, mirroring Jane. She plays with her hands. She doesn't make eye contact. She's all tender inside. She's used up every ounce of her courage knocking on the door, and now she's just here. In the bed.

Jane knows. "Big day, huh?"

Maura nods, still looking at her hands.

"First rose."

"Yes." Maura sighs. "First rose."

"You don't sound happy."

She still doesn't look up. "Should I be?"

Jane shrugs. "Most people here would be."

"Most people here wouldn't have gotten it because they adequately performed CPR."

Jane chuckles, stretching her arms over her head for a moment. "No, you're probably the only one in that particular situation. But you didn't just get it because of that."

"Don't. Don't do that." Her voice is sharper than Jane has ever heard it. "Don't lie to me. We both know why I got that rose tonight, and exactly what would have happened if Chloe hadn't hit her head. I'm not an idiot, Jane, and I don't appreciate being condescended or lied to."

Contrition immediately floods Jane. "Shit, Maur, I—you're right. I'm sorry."

Maura reaches over and gently entwines their fingers. "It's alright." Her touch soothes Jane, and they both fall silent, just feeling each other.

After a moment, "Can I tell you something?"

Jane squeezes gently. "Anything."

"I haven't worked on a live patient since I was in Africa."

"Was that why you were calling her, um, what was it?"

"Mchumba, yes. It's 'sweetheart' in Swahili. I'm unaccustomed to comforting injured people in English. It just came out."

"I don't think she minded."

"No, I don't think she did."

The silence is filled with unspoken words. Finally, she can't take it anymore. "What is it, Maur?"

A deep breath. "In Africa, there was a man." Jane's heart plummets. "There was a man, and we were…involved." A beat.

"You loved him."

"Oh, yes. I loved him. And I think he loved me. In a way."

"But not the same way?"

"No. Not the same way." Her voice is thick. Jane's blood rushes around in her body. "He wasn't—he was a wonderful doctor. He is a wonderful doctor. But, he never—well." A deep breath. "He had a lot of opportunities to pick me, to make what we had real, and he didn't."

"I'm so sorry."

"I thought I was over it, that my neurochemical reaction to him had abated. I haven't seen or spoken to him in nearly a year. But today…I don't know. I, um…you know what, never mind." She starts to leave, but Jane holds her hand firmly.

"Wait." Jane reaches over and snaps off the light before scrunching down to lay flat on her back. "Lay down."

"Why?"

"Because it's always easier to say these things laying down in the dark. It's a scientific fact."

"It most certainly is not." But they can both feel the other smiling in the dark.

"Use the scientific method, Maura. Test my hypothesis." But Maura is already sliding down between the sheets. She tucks her right hand under her head, her left easily finding Jane's again.

Staring up at the ceiling, she softly speaks. "When I was with him, when I saved someone I'd go to him and he'd tell me he was proud of me. And if I lost someone, he'd tell me that I'd done my best. He was there for me, each time. And today, when Brockton came over to me, after, for a second, just a split second, I thought it was him. I thought it was Ian. And it wasn't, obviously. And I shouldn't have been disappointed because I came here to forget Ian. And I left Africa because Ian wouldn't love me enough and so I shouldn't miss him or want him or think about him. But I've never…I've never saved someone and not had him to hold me and tell me he was proud of me. And then when Brockton told me that I was 'totally hot' and 'scary impressive,' his words, obviously, I just felt…letdown. Empty."

Jane is running her thumb up and down Maura's. She squeezes, hard. She waits a few moments, until she knows her voice will stay steady. "I don't know Ian, but I know that if he picked the job, or his freedom, or whatever bullshit he called it, over you, then he's an idiot. He's an idiot, Maura, because you're incredible. You're passionate, and sweet, and incredibly strong, and you're breathtaking, and you're—you're just this incredible person. And if he wasn't smart enough to see that, then he's an idiot. And a douchebag. And you can do so much better. I know you can, and I know you will. With Brockton or with…whoever.

"And what you did today was totally badass. If you hadn't been there, Chloe would have died, and I know that for a fact. You saved her life today, and I'm not going to tell you that I'm proud of you because that feels, I don't know, condescending, I guess. And I'm not going to call you scary impressive because I'm not afraid of you, but I will tell you that I'm absolutely in awe of what you did today. You were this unbelievable mix of professional badass and, like, soft caretaker, and I had no idea that was even possible. I'm in awe of you, Maura, and I just wish you knew how awesome you are."

Jane politely pretends not to notice Maura wiping her face or shaking the bed softly when her breath catches.

After some minutes in silence, Maura rolls onto her left side and gently tucks herself into Jane's space. Jane, without even thinking, matches her movement, putting them face to face with a few inches of air between them as she lays her arm over Maura's waist.

When she's about sixty percent asleep, Maura's small voice pulls her back.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"That wasn't anywhere near the scariest thing I've ever seen."

The smell of scorched earth, the screams of a child, the feeling of her own blood pouring down her body. Jane shudders and pulls Maura in flush against her, banishing the memories and overloading her senses with softness.

"Me neither."

Maura sighs and relaxes, her body melting into Jane's. "Goodnight, Jane."

"Goodnight, mchumba." Jane feels Maura smile against her chest as she drops a kiss on her head. "Sleep well."


	5. Chapter 5

The next day Maura goes on a group date. They go and do something or other, and it's all fine. Brockton pays her cursory attention at first, still to thank her for saving Chloe, but quickly forgets about her. Maura does a phenomenal job pretending like it doesn't bother her. Jane is just straight-up confused. Why on earth is someone as amazing and gorgeous and brilliant here, lusting after this douche? And, secondly but possibly more importantly, why the fuck is it bothering Jane so much? What is this thing inside her ribs and why, every once in a while, does it scream for the taste of Maura's lips or the feeling of her hand?

Confused and a roil, Jane decides not to seek Maura out, and instead spends hours and hours going over files and evidence and finding absolutely nothing useful. It's infuriating and frustrating and only serves to bring her mind back to Maura again.

The day after, the other half of the girls go on a date, and Jane and Maura sneak away for a run.

"Are we allowed to be running out of the house?" Maura asks after about 15 minutes.

"Nope. But since I'm the one in charge of stopping you, I figured we could get away with it." They grin at each other.

After five miles, they slow down to a walk, meandering along the streets, both singularly disinterested in heading back to the mansion. Jane's mind wanders to the case and the internal politics of BPD, so she's pretty shocked when Maura speaks.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

Her brain sputters. "Uh, what?"

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"…Are you taking a survey?"

"No. I was just wondering. I overheard some of the girls yesterday, in the limo, discussing how they'd kissed other girls to get a guy's attention, and I was wondering if you'd done it."

"Gross, no."

Maura stops walking, looking upset. "You think kissing a girl is gross?"

Jane pulls up, startled. "No, no, that's not what I meant! If someone wants to kiss a girl, go ahead, I couldn't care less. But kissing a girl just to get the attention of a guy – ugh. I think that's super gross."

Maura looks happier. "Oh, yes. I suppose so."

They start walking again.

After a moment, Jane can't stand it. "So, have you? Kissed a girl?"

Maura smiles. "No, I haven't. Have you?"

"Nope." A long pause. And then, it just happens. "Not yet."

The blue shard jumps around her rib cage, dancing with delight.

* * *

The next night Brockton is on a date with just one girl (!). Everyone else is moping around the house, feeling sorry for themselves and talking shit about the girl he picked.

Maura, for reasons Jane simply cannot fathom, seems just as distraught as the rest of them. Of course, unlike the rest of them, she shows those feelings by snapping at every grammatical mistake the girls make and just generally getting on their nerves. Unable to escape to her room because she's on the clock, Jane retreats to the small living room as soon as she can, planning to just wait it out until everyone goes to bed and she can relax.

Half a Sox game later, Maura comes and sits down next to her.

"So this is where you disappeared to."

"Yeah. Things were a little intense out there."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Maur, you know. Everyone was so upset about not being on the date."

"Of course we were, Jane. We all wanted to be chosen, but weren't. It's natural to be upset and irritable when an event we desire doesn't occur."

"Yeah, but like, it's just a date."

"Jane, this is a zero sum game. If Kelly gets a date, that means I don't. It's a competition, and I do not enter competitions to lose."

Jane holds her hands up. "Okay, let's not blow this out of proportion. This isn't gladiators or something. This is TV dating."

Maura leans back, affronted. "Why are you being like this?"

Jane knows she's crossing the line, but she can't stop it. "Like what?"

"Cruel. Hostile and cruel." It hurts so much that Jane, unable to process, just makes it worse.

"Because, Maura!" She's practically shouting now, standing, pacing, and throwing her arms up. "Because this is ridiculous! You don't even know him!"

Maura stands as well, her voice firm. "That's how this works, Jane."

"Well it's stupid! And I didn't take you for stupid, Maura, but if you're buying into this BS then you're a hell of a lot dumber than I thought."

"Oh, how thoughtful. Thanks so much." She crosses her arms, her tone holding a brand new note of bitterness.

Jane is snapped out of her frustration and just stands there, staring at Maura. Maura fidgets under her stare. "What?"

"I've just—never heard you use sarcasm before."

"Oh." Maura looks down, suddenly bashful. "Did I do it correctly?"

It's so cute that despite herself, Jane grins and flops back on the couch. "Like a champ."

Maura sits down primly next to her. She's clearly waiting for an apology.

Jane doesn't make her wait long. "Look, Maur, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I really didn't. You're not stupid, and I know that. But I just don't…"

Patiently. "Don't what, Jane?"

"I don't understand why you're doing this."

A moment. "You know, when I don't understand why someone is doing something, I find it easiest to ask them. Openly and directly."

Jane's not stupid either. "Maura, why are you here? Why are you doing this?"

Maura takes a deep breath. Jane has to give her credit – she answers as fully and completely as she can. "I have a genius-level IQ. I taught myself to read when I was two. When I was ten I left home for an elite boarding school in France. I skipped two grades and graduated when I was sixteen. From there I went to BCU for college and then to Stanford for medical school. I was the first in my class at all of them. I was offered all the most exclusive residencies, and I'm the most effective and efficient medical examiner ever to be attached to the Massachusetts hospital system. If I want to, I have no doubt I could be the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth by age thirty. I speak five languages fluently, I could teach graduate level courses in most sciences and mathematics, as well as literary theory. I'm well acquainted with modern art, classical opera, and experimental drama. I was the captain of my fencing and dressage teams."

"Okay, Maura, I get it. My inferiority complex is adequately, firing, I promise. Can you stop with the resume?"

"No, Jane, that's the point. My resume is perfect. There has never been anything that I've tried my hardest at and not been the best. I study the rules, I master them, and then I master the discipline. But I…"

She holds out a hand, hopelessly.

"But no matter how many books I've read, or studies I've examined, I simply cannot do this."

Jane's voice is soft, encouraging. "Do what?"

Maura looks up and the resignation in her eyes is absolutely heartbreaking. "People. I can't, for the life of me, understand people."

"Oh, Maura." The icy blue shard freezes Jane's entire torso, stealing into her heart and crawling up her spine.

"There are no rules. People are…intuition, and unpredictability, and I…I simply can't master the science of people. And so I can't find a mate and I can't make friends or relate to my coworkers. The important men in my life haven't loved me enough or believed in me or treated me like I matter. And they've left me. And I've never once had a real friend. And my parents…" She cuts herself off to keep from crying.

Jane nearly sobs. She reaches over and grabs Maura's hand, squeezing it hard between both of hers. _You have me, you have me_.

"And then I got back from Africa, and I was completely lost. I had left Ian and I loved Ian, and I was starting a new chapter of my life and I was terrified and alone. And I was watching TV to fill up my house, and _the Bachelor_ was on. And I found it fascinating, ethnographically. I watched a few episodes, and it was…it was everything I'd been looking for.

"I watched every episode from every season ever aired. And you know what? Three seasons in, I was able to accurately predict the winner after the second or third episode. Every time. Because there are set rules for how to win. And the girl that follows those rules the best wins."

"And you wanted to be that girl?"

"Yes, Jane, I want to be that girl. These rules, they unlock the science of people, distill it down into something I can excel at."

She looks expectant, like Jane is supposed to be proud of her. It's both the saddest and the dumbest thing Jane has ever heard. But she has to be gentle this time. "And, how is it going?"

Maura's face falls. "Not…as well as I'd expected. I seem, for the first time, to be failing at a science. If this doesn't work, I don't…I don't know what to do."

She's perilously close to tears. Jane extracts her hands from Maura's and puts her arm around Maura's shoulders, pulling her in. Maura gently rests her head on Jane's shoulder, curling in and clicking perfectly into place.

"People aren't a science, Maur. The show might have these rules, but they're not rules for actual love. That's not how love works. It might be how Brockton works, but…do you actually want to fall in love with him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why do you want him to fall in love with you?"

Maura is silent. After a moment, Jane continues. "Look, I clearly get the appeal of knowing that no matter what, no matter who, you can make a person fall in love with you. I really do. But him, he's…"

She hesitates.

"Say it."

The floodgates open. Her voice is soft but emphatic. "He's…he's stupid, Maura! He's stupid and douchey and he doesn't get why you're amazing and why do you want someone like that? Some meathead who can barely string two sentences together? What do you have in common? What would you talk about? He's not doing anything fulfilling or meaningful with his life, he's not giving back to society or trying to make anything better for anyone. He's just a pretty boy with a good haircut."

Maura's quiet for a long enough that Jane begins to panic that she's gone too far again. But then, very softly, she speaks. "I don't care what he's like. I just want to know what it's like to be wanted more than anything or anyone else."

And Jane's heart shatters and the shard claws deeper inside of her. All she can do is pull Maura in closer and cling to her.

Another few moments of quiet. Maura can hear Jane's heart thumping through her chest.

"Jane?"

Clearing her throat. "Uh, yeah?"

"Why are you here? You hate the show, you hate Brockton, it seems like you hate everyone you work with."

"That obvious, huh?"

Maura can hear the smile in her voice. "Just to me."

This is thin ice – Jane obviously can't tell her the real reason she's here. But she so badly wants to be honest. "Um, this isn't my usual thing. I was assigned."

"What's your usual thing?"

Dang. Think fast. "Um, cop…shows. Cop shows. I'm usually a PA on cop shows."

"Is that, what did you say? Meaningful and fulfilling?"

Fuck. "Um, more than this."

"Mmm."

Double fuck. "Except—except for you."

Maura picks her head up, looking at Jane in surprise.

"Meeting you, being friends with you…it's meaningful. To me." It's awkward, it's stupid sounding.

But then Maura smiles, a real deep smile, one that comes from her toes and brings with it ever fiber of happiness in her body. And suddenly it's perfect. She gently lies back on Jane's chest, bringing her arm up to tuck around Jane's stomach.

"To me too, Jane. It's meaningful to me too."

* * *

After the rose ceremony, in which Maura gets a rose towards the end but isn't in danger of being sent away, the girls turn in early. They were woken up at five am for an early photo shoot, and they're completely exhausted.

Jane, however, has a treat in mind.

She tiptoes through the house, creaking open the door to Maura's room as silently as she can, and padding over to Maura's bed, smiling down at the sleeping doctor. Kneeling, she places her hand softly over Maura's mouth and gently shakes her shoulder. Maura starts up in a panic.

"Shh, Maur, it's okay. It's just me. Be quiet, okay?"

Maura nods, and Jane removes her hand from her mouth, the feeling of lips seared into her palm.

"Everyone else is sleeping, but I thought maybe you'd want to sneak into the hot tub with me."

Saying it out loud makes it sound kind of stupid, but Maura nods. "Yes, that sounds lovely."

"Okay. Put on your bathing suit and meet me outside. But have a robe on or something in case someone sees you."

Maura nods. Jane squeezes her shoulder and slips out of the room.

Being the one in charge is awesome, sometimes. Jane pulls the cover off the hot tub and turns on the jets and tub lights. She takes off her clothes, placing them and the towels on a chair. She slides into the hot water with a groan of pleasure, closing her eyes and leaning back against the jets. It's been a long week. She's no closer to finding any leads for the threats, and the combination of her PA work and her detective work is running her ragged.

She's so relaxed that she doesn't hear Maura's approach until the doctor speaks. "I brought some wine from the kitchen. And you look like you could use it."

Jane cracks an eye and grins. "Gee, thanks, you look great too."

But then Maura takes off her robe, and the meaning totally changes.

She's in an itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny totally black string bikini. It's much smaller than her other bathing suit, and it also seems to share some properties with a black hole, because it has completely sucked Jane's eyes into it and she can't for the life of her tear them away. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and Jane has never seen such a neck.

Maura drapes her robe over the chair, and then places the wine and two glasses next to Jane. Ignoring, or possibly not noticing, the look Jane is giving her body, she walks around to the stairs and climbs in, hissing at the heat as she immerses herself up to the neck.

It's perfect.

After a few moments of quiet bliss, Maura looks over to see Jane peacefully resting with her eyes closed. She quietly slides over next to Jane and then, without warning, turns and straddles her.

Jane's eyes open with a strangled cry, and for a moment all she can see are breasts, barely contained by black fabric, right in her face. Her hands, involuntarily, grab Maura's hips. She blinks, rapidly.

It takes her a good few seconds to pull her eyes out of Maura's cleavage, and then a few more to notice that Maura's laughing at her.

She flushes red from her toes to the flaming tips of her ears.

Maura leans over, grabbing the wine and pouring two glasses. "Sorry for invading your space, but I didn't want the wine to go to waste." And then she winks. She motherfucking _winks_ and it's the sexiest thing Jane has ever seen.

Jane can barely take the glass she's handed. Her eyes have fallen back into the black hole.

"See something you like?" Maura asks dryly, raising an eyebrow.

It happens so quickly that Jane somehow tells the truth. "Yes."

Maura takes it in stride. "Good. Cheers." She clinks their glasses together and, without getting off Jane, or even breaking eye contact, takes a healthy sip.

* * *

Jane is lying in bed, teeming with emotion. She's not confused anymore. No, what happened in the hot tub really cleared up any lingering confusion she might have about being attracted to Maura. The five minutes Maura spent on her lap were the five most erotic moments of her life, and they didn't even kiss. Jane didn't even get to touch any of that tiny pathetic beautiful excuse for clothing at all. Maura had just sat there, right on top of her, drinking wine and chatting. Totally casual.

No, Jane is not confused about Jane. Jane knows that Jane desperately, desperately, want to make out with, make love to, make smile, and generally see naked, one Maura Isles.

But Jane is confused about Maura. Clearly she's flirting. But is she? She keeps going on about how bad she at these things. Maybe she honestly doesn't know that friends don't wink like that at friends. That friends don't sit on top of one another in tiny bikinis and get lost in each others' fucking incredible cleavage.

And then there's Brockton. Maura's here to make him fall in love with her. If he starts paying attention, and she flirts with him the way she's flirting with Jane? Game over. Jane's pretty sure there isn't a human alive that could withstand the true force of nature that's Sexy Maura.

_God damn_. Jane rubs her hands over her face. _This shit just got complicated_.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for your reviews. I'm glad you're liking this weird business - they're very meaningful to me.

Today is a snow day but I am going to work anyway, so reviews are extra appreciated because my life is incredibly woeful.


	6. Chapter 6

This shit is _really_ complicated. No, it's not enough that someone is threatening these women. Add to that a ridiculous undercover assignment, and you'd think that would be enough drama. But no. Jane had to go and develop the hots, the very very very hot hots, for someone. For a _girl_, no less. And not just any girl. A brilliant, oblivious, sexy-as-hell, total enigma of a girl. Whose entire sense of self-esteem is currently wrapped up in making someone else fall in love with her.

Yeah, complicated seems like the word.

Jane spends the next day stewing. Acknowledging her feeling for Maura didn't make them easier to bear as she'd hoped. Instead, it seems to have made them worse. She can't stop noticing how beautiful Maura's eyes are, or how swishy her hair is. She can't stop grinning when she thinks about the hot tub or the night they spent in her bed together. She can't stop her lungs from contracting every time Maura says something brilliant in passing. She can't stop her heart swooping through her body and her blood bubbling and twinkling into champagne every time Maura smiles at her.

She can't stop the shard from twisting deep inside her gut whenever she sees disappointment flash across Maura's mask. She can't stop it from growing inside her and cracking her ribs every time she sees Maura notice Brockton noticing someone else.

After dinner, Jane is blissfully off-duty, and retreats to the shower, one of the only places she can actually be alone. As she shampoos her hair, she indulges herself for a few seconds in what it would be like to be with Maura – to spend nights and days with her, to shower with her, to kiss her whenever she wanted to. But the shard grows and twists and climbs through her, freezing her insides. Even with the water turned up all the way, her teeth begin to chatter.

Maura is so unhappy. So scared, so sad, so alone. All she wants is for Brockton to want her. And half of Jane is screaming BUT FUCK BROCKTON, I CAN GIVE YOU ANYTHING, but the other half, the icy half, knows that Maura can't be happy until he wants her.

So, leaning her hand up on the wall and taking shuddering breath after shuddering breath, Jane resolves to help Maura get him.

And, about twenty minutes later, after she's finally able to stop sobbing, Jane steps out of the shower, gets dressed, and goes to find Maura before she loses her nerve.

* * *

She finds her in their living room. She's expecting Maura to be reading, but she's surprised to see her with the remote in her hand, her head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed, intently studying _The Jersey Shore_.

Jane is much too raw for how adorable this is. She carefully wraps her heart up, puts it into her pocket for safekeeping, armors herself in sarcasm, and steps into the room.

"I didn't really take you for a Snooki fan."

Maura's head whips around, blushing furiously, as she frantically presses assorted buttons on the remote, trying in vain to change the channel as quickly as possible. All she manages to do, however, is get the volume stuck on its highest setting.

Jane laughs, loudly, before crossing the room, grabbing the remote, and muting the volume.

"Nice job, Maur," Jane says, plopping down next to a very flustered Dr. Isles. "Very sneaky, there."

Maura smoothes her skirt in a ridiculous pretense of propriety and says nothing.

"It's alright, Doctor. You don't have to be a closeted _Jersey Shore_ fan. This is a safe space." Jane's shit-eating grin threatens to crack her face in half.

"I—it….ethnographic research." Maura offers weakly.

Jane busts out laughing, genuinely smacking her own knees until Maura knocks her in the chest with a pillow.

"Shut up." She says softly, her ears still a flaming red.

Jane just laughs harder. She absolutely deserves it when Maura pushes her shoulder, hard, toppling her over on her side.

But the harshness of the moment comes flooding back to her as she has to force herself not to grab Maura's wrist, pulling the smaller woman over on top of her, and kissing her for hours.

She pushes herself back up, and Maura, still flushed and laughing, stills when she sees the serious look on her face.

"What's wrong? Oh, Jane, did I hurt you?"

Jane holds up a hand. "No, Maur, I'm fine. I just…" Big breath. Big girl breath. "I came here to tell you that I can help you get Brockton."

It's dead silent for a moment. For long enough that a tiny balloon of hope floats through Jane. _Maybe she feels it too. Maybe she's going to say she doesn't care about Brockton. Maybe she'll say she's only staying here to be with me. Maybe she'll kiss me and I just brushed my teeth so I don't even have to worry and I bet she tastes like sunshine._

"You can?" The excitement in her eyes, the way she leans forward. With a cracking sound, the balloon pops and Jane's heart, raw and vulnerable, rips a little.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can. Not here though. I can't have any of the other girls see me helping you. If they report it, I could get fired."

Maura nods. "Your room, then?"

* * *

God, it's torture. Sitting on your own bed, in hand-holding distance of Maura Isles. Knowing how badly you want her. Smelling her hair and remembering what it feels like to have her curled next to you, her head on your chest, her hand in yours. Sitting there with her, and telling her how to make someone else fall in love with her. You held your mother as she collapsed to the ground, screaming for her baby boy that was being sent off to prison, but this might be harder.

"Okay, I'm ready. What do I do?" She looks so fucking eager. It shatters you. You keep going anyway.

"When you're talking to him, what are you thinking about?"

"The rules. I analyze the situation, think about what rule applies the most to the situation, and do my best to implement that rule."

"And what do you think about when you're with me?"

Maura pulls up short. "I, um, I don't know. I guess I don't think that much; I just do what I feel like. Why are you asking me that?"

You sigh heavily but keep going. "Because what you do when you're with me – uh, well, I just um…" You take a breath, steel yourself, and rush through it. "If you act around him like you act around me, he'll be into you."

Maura looks down at her hands. "I don't—understand."

"Maura." She looks up, a bit surprised by the intensity in your eyes. "Just pretend he's me. Do to him what you do to me. It'll work. I promise."

Maura nods. "Alright. I will."

Your stomach twists and you know your insides will never feel warm again. The shard is the size of a kite, slicing through all of your softest parts.

* * *

The next morning Jane does her best to steer clear of Maura. She's running around setting up breakfast, waking up women, and getting everyone fed and dressed for their group date, so it's not terribly hard to do. Getting ten to fifteen young women anywhere on time, especially when they have to have camera-ready hair, makeup, and outfits, is no easy task, and today is worse than usual. It seems like hours before everyone is finally assembled in the foyer. The other PA lectures them on the rules for this date while Jane goes out to check the limo.

As she steps outside, she calls to the driver to start the car so the AC will be flowing by the time the women get in. If she has to hear one more time about humidity in the limos causing hair to wilt, she'll grab her gun from her room and shoot somebody, she really will.

But after the driver gets in, Jane hears the sputtering sound of the engine turning over. Panic floods her. She sprints to the driver's door, throws it open, and bodily tosses the man out of the car before he can try to start it again. She hauls him off the ground and pulls him back several meters, listening for any telltale signs of a bomb about to go off.

After a few moments of silence, Jane cautiously approaches the limo, signaling the driver to stay back. She does a quick inspection of the interior before crouching down and looking underneath the carriage.

And she sees it. A bomb.

At that exact moment, the other PA leads the girls out into the courtyard.

Thinking fast, Jane springs into action. "This limo is out of commission." She calls in her most authoritative cop voice. "Everyone needs to head back into the house, actually into the backyard to wait for another vehicle."

A hubbub erupts. The driver comes up, completely confused about why Jane won't let him try to restart the car. The other PA is trying to get the girls into the other limo, but Jane keeps yelling over him, telling the girls to go to the backyard. One of the girls is complaining about the heat in the backyard, and since Jane can't tell her that the backyard is the spot on the property furthest away from the _fucking_ _bomb_, she just glares until everyone does what she says.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Jane is alone in the courtyard. She quickly pulls out her phone and calls her captain, ordering a fleet of police cars to take the girls off the property and an armed escort. Her captain deploys the bomb squad, and, while she waits for them, Jane tells the girls that the surprise twist of their date is for them to arrive in police cars, doing her best to make it sound both fun and planned.

Everyone but Maura buys it.

Jane runs back to the courtyard, lies on her back, and wriggles underneath the limo to get a better look at the bomb. Without touching it, she does her best to trace the wiring and measure the potential impact of the explosive mounted to the underside of the car.

Maura's voice surprises her so much that she nearly grabs the red wire.

"What are you doing?"

Jane swears several times before pulling herself out from under the car. Maura extends her hand to help Jane up. The contact sends another trickle of adrenaline through Jane's system.

"Uh, just checking out the car." But then panic. "Maur, you need to get to the backyard. Now."

"I know a great deal about cars. Please, let me take a look."

She heads over the hood, but Jane throws out an arm to stop her. "Thanks, but we've got it covered."

"Jane, you haven't even popped the hood. Really, I can be of service here."

"Maura. I really need you to go back to the backyard. Right now."

Maura doesn't miss the seriousness of Jane's expression or the concern in her eyes.

She takes a moment, then nods softly. "Alright." A beat, then she extends her hand again. "Come with me?"

Jane can't resist. Just in case she gets blown up, she'll give herself this. She reaches out and squeezes Maura's hand, hard, before dropping it and gently pushing away. "I can't. But please, go."

Eyebrows knit in confusion, Maura does as she's told.

* * *

Finally, the girls are carted away by their police escort. Several of them swoon over the officers, and Jane does some impressive contortions to make sure none of the officers see her and blow her cover. Finally it's just her and the bomb squad.

They disarm the bomb pretty quickly, and the captain of the unit explains to Jane that it was terribly made.

"Couldna done mah than pop the cah off the ground a few inches, probably naht even a whole foot. Whoevah made this didna have any idea what he was doin'."

"What can you tell me about what it's made out of?"

"I dunnah yet. Looks like basic c-fah, but I'll take it to ya lab and have them call ya as soon as they know somethin', ahright Detective?"

"Thanks, Captain."

Then hot, sweaty, full of adrenaline and unanswered questions, Jane hustles back into the house. She changes her clothes in record time, straps her gun into her ankle holster for the first time this assignment, and heads out to protect Maura.

* * *

The first thing Jane sees when she arrives at the botanical garden is Maura and Brockton off in a corner together. Brockton is all over her, and the cameras are all over the both of them. Jane considers throwing up in a bush.

Her advice has clearly worked. Maura is smiling, Brockton is laughing, and he has his arm around her. He's staring deeply into her cleavage, but every once in a while his eyes flick up to her face, which is probably as good as can be expected.

They talk for a long time. It's probably ten minutes, but it feels like fifty hours. At one point Maura winks at him and Jane nearly cries.

At the end, he goes in for the kiss. Jane watches in slow motion as he leans in and, at the very last second, Maura turns away, offering her cheek to him. Jane sees the predatory look in his eyes. She strongly reconsiders her decision not to heave into the prized begonias next to her.

The other girls start talking about her as real competition.

Jane does a lot of busywork that involves never being close enough to Maura to smell her hair.

At the rose ceremony that night, Maura gets the second rose. She's elated.

There is a tiny monster inside of Jane that's crying and punching things and throwing up. But the rest of Jane just cleans up from the ceremony and goes to her room, closing the door to keep Maura out.

* * *

A few hours later, and Jane's never been more frustrated with police work. She's on the phone with Barry Frost, a computer tech looking for a promotion to detective work. He's telling her about the c-4 used in the bomb.

"I don't know, Jane. The lab results say it's crappy c-4, but in a huge amount. It should have been more than capable of blowing up the car, the house, even blowing the water out of the pool."

"Then why did the bomb techs say it couldn't have even flipped the limo?"

"Because it was wired wrong. They were trying to wire it into the engine, so when it started the bomb would go off. But all they managed to do was kill the engine. I'm not sure it would have ever gone off."

"What the fuck? Who would go to all the trouble of sneaking onto the property, without leaving a trace, by the way, and duct-taping enough c-4 to level the entire property onto a car, and then wire it wrong? This doesn't make any sense."

"I agree with you, Jane. It's fishy, but it's all we've got so far."

Before she can respond, Maura simultaneously knocks and opens the door. "Jane, are you—Oh! Sorry!" Seeing the phone in Jane's hand, she goes to back out of the room.

"Wait, Maur, it's okay. Barry, call me back when you have something, okay?"

"What? You got a man coming to your room this late at night, Jane?"

"Shut up, Barry. Just call me later, okay?"

"Sure thing. Night, Jane."

"Bye, turd." She tosses the phone onto the bed. "Hey, Maur, sorry about that. What's up?" She shoves her hands into her pockets to keep them from reaching out to Maura.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"No, don't be ridiculous. That was just Barry."

"Who?" Politely inquisitive.

"Oh, just, uh, someone that I used to work with." Damn, this undercover thing is hard.

"I see. Well, I wanted to thank you for your advice. I did what you told me, and I think it worked." She doesn't look happy though.

Jane's legs give out a little, so she sits on the edge of the bed and hopes it looks casual. "Oh, good. I'm…glad." Liar of the century. She hopes her nose isn't visibly growing.

Maura sits down cautiously on the bed next to Jane. She's fiddling with her hands again, like she did before she felt comfortable reaching over and taking Jane's when she's nervous. "Yes, you were very helpful."

She's so confused, so lost, so upset. Another jagged tear rips through Jane's heart. Softly, she asks. "What's wrong?"

Softly, she answers. "I did what you said, and it worked. But it didn't feel…right. It didn't feel the same as when I did it with you."

Every cell in Jane's body holds its breath.

Maura looks up at Jane through her lashes, her eyes heavy with sadness and unasked questions.

Jane can't answer them, so she just scoots closer and takes Maura into her arms. She wraps an arm around Maura's back and snakes a hand up into her hair. Maura drops her head onto Jane's shoulder as her whole body trembles.

"Why can't I do anything right?"

Jane just wraps her fingers around Maura's silky hair and croons to her softly.

Maura's body finally stills, and Jane gently lifts her up and carries her to her own room. She softly lays her in her own bed, pulling the covers up around her. She leans down and kisses her forehead softly.

As she pulls away, Maura reaches up a hand and softly touches her cheek.

Before she cries, Jane hurries out of the room, feeling heavier than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

You've never been somebody who is strongly affected by other people's emotions. You understand their feelings and how they motivate them to do whatever it is that they're doing, but they don't get to you, personally. You don't feel them in your own heart. Its what makes you a great cop. They call it detachment and pat you on the back for it.

But you're worried you're going to drown under the heaviness of her sorrow. For the next few days, the sadness in her eyes scorches you, suffocating you. You feel like you've been wrapped in a down comforter and thrown into the ocean. You can't move freely, can't take a deep breath, can't save yourself. Can't save her.

She wants him. You want her. He wants everyone, including, but not limited to her.

And, the worst part is, you're pretty sure she might want you too. The quiet nights in your room. How she cried into your shoulder. How she seeks you out. How open she is with you. How her unthinking way of being with you is, apparently, flirty enough to give you a coronary. And, good lord, what the hell was with that hot tub thing? Because if she's not into you, then you don't want to see what she'd be like in a hot tub when she's actively trying to seduce someone. You're pretty sure humanity wouldn't survive the experience.

You try not to get your hopes up. Even if she is into you, she's also into him. Or at least into the idea of him, and she's made that perfectly clear. He's her priority.

You're not enough for her.

* * *

Jane does a spectacular job avoiding Maura for the next few days, partially because of the production schedule, partially because she keeps trading her shifts around with the explicit purpose of avoiding Maura, and partially because she spends an entire "personal day" at BPD going over evidence from the bomb with Barry Frost.

The bomb is a dead-end. No evidence, no leads, and the c-4 has proved be untraceable. This is turning into the most frustrating case of her career, and Jane isn't taking it that well. All she wants to wrap up the case, move out of the house, and do her best to forget a show called _The Bachelor_ even exists until Maura is eliminated. Jane spends quite a bit of time daydreaming what it will be like when that happens, but decides that until then she's going to do her best to be 100% platonic with Maura. No more hot tub, no more late-night crying or heartfelt confessions. She needs to focus on the case, and, also, she needs to try really heard to not focus on the idea of Maura getting steamy with Brockton. Because that might just kill her.

* * *

_Maura, recently eliminated, returns to her house in Beacon Hill sad, but somehow, not as sad as she was expecting. Her first night back, she orders Chinese delivery. The doorbell rings. She grabs her wallet, opens the door, and it's Jane, standing there holding her lo mein. Maura carefully takes the food from Jane, places it on the side table, drops her wallet to the ground and leaps up into Jane's arms, kissing her until they explode. And then sex. Everywhere._

_Maura's driving, some kind of super sexy rich muscle car, and she gets pulled over for speeding. She's talking to the officer until an unmarked pulls up. A hot detective unfolds herself from it and swaggers over, dismissing the officer. She leans down, rests her elbows on the window, and drawls, "Hey little lady." Maura gapes, checks out the badge, and then throws herself out of the car and onto Jane. They makeout, and then sex in the car. _

_Jane is watching the Red Sox game at home in her underwear. A knock on the door. It's Maura. She's found out everything and, bonus, she's brought her entire sex toy collection that she won't even be mad that Jane doesn't know how to use yet. Sex._

_They run into each other in the grocery store. Sex._

_They meet up in some sort of running gathering. Sweaty spandex sex._

_Also, maybe they just get married and have babies and are really in love, okay._

* * *

Her resolve lasts until about 4pm the next day, when Maura corners her and invites herself along for a run. As Jane's already in her running clothes, she can't really back out, so she just sighs and hopes that Maura decides to wear a really unattractive running outfit.

She doesn't. She's wearing tiny black shorts, thankfully not too tight, but they could certainly stand to be looser, and a super tight oh my god blue tank top. She's pulling her hair into a ponytail as she walks down the stairs toward Jane, and the sliver of stomach Jane can see brings back memories of the hot tub black-hole-of-majestic-cleavage incident, and she flushes like a sixth-grader at her first dance.

And then, for the love of god, Maura blatantly checks her out, clearly running her eyes over Jane's (admittedly very short) shorts and (rather tight) t-shirt. To keep herself from ripping off her own clothes and laying down her body as an offering to the goddess, Jane chants to herself: _she's checking out my clothes not my body, she's checking out my clothes not my body, clothes clothes clothes_.

Maura reaches her, and, finding Jane's eyes a bit glazed over, she touches her arm. "Are you ready, Jane?"

At her touch, Jane panic yells. "They're from Target!"

Maura quirks an eyebrow. Jane stumbles through an "I mean, right on target. Right-o. Let's do this run thing" in the most awkward way possible, and then literally runs away from her problem.

Unfortunately, her problem is just as fast as she is.

But Maura, blissfully, says nothing as she catches up. She just silently matches Jane's stride and settles into herself as they take their usual route around the neighborhood.

* * *

About three miles in, and Jane is finally relaxing. The exertion of running is taking just enough of the edge off her drowning/scorching feelings and calming the buzz in her veins from Maura's presence. _Maybe I should just run in place every time I'm with her. _Outside, in the sunshine, Jane finally starts to feel like herself again. Not like a person who is desperately crushing on someone totally unavailable. Not like someone undercover who can't talk to anyone she loves about this crush. Not like a maybe lesbian with lots of confusing feelings. She's able to shake off Jane the PA and Jane the detective and just be.

As they round a corner, she looks over at Maura, and grins. Maura meets her eyes, and flashes a real smile back. Jane reaches out for her hand to squeeze it, just once, as a silent apology for being so weird.

But before she reaches it, two shots ring out, shattering the quiet afternoon.

Jane acts on instinct, grabbing Maura around the waist and tumbling them down to the grass off to her left, careful to make sure her body is the one to hit the ground. She rolls them, quickly, pinning Maura underneath her. Maura's face is pale, frightened. She's holding onto Jane, one hand on her hip and the other gripping her neck.

"Stay down." Jane orders, pulling herself up.

But Maura holds her firmly down, refusing to give an inch. "What are you doing? You stay down too!" Her eyes are equal parts terrified and determined.

"Maura, let me go!" Jane wiggles out from Maura's grasp and, crouching, runs to behind the nearest car. Cursing herself for leaving her gun at home, she peeks around the car to see a deserted street. She notices fresh skid marks on the road, and the sight of them makes her realize that, as she was protecting Maura, she heard tires squealing and men shouting.

She runs out into the street, ignoring Maura's strangled cry of protest from behind her, but the shooters are long gone.

"God fucking damn it!" She kicks the street, furious, before trotting back over to Maura, who is still sitting on the ground in shock. Jane kneels down next to her and rubs Maura's arms softly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Maura makes an effort to meet her eyes. "N-no. No, I'm not hurt."

Before they can say anymore, two cars pull up, and a man hurriedly pours out of one of them, holding a gun out in front of him and pointing it all around with precise movements. "Shots fired! Anybody hit?"

Jane stands, turning to face him, unfazed by his gun. "No, nobody injured. Two shots."

A second man has slid out of the other car, and is ambling towards them. "Well, hot damn, if it isn't Detective Rizzoli. What the hell are you doing out here, so far from home? And dressed like that, to boot."

Jane's face drains white, and the other man hisses, "Crowe!" but he keeps going. "Is that the new uniform for narco detectives, Rizzoli, cause, I gotta say, I'm not looking forward to seeing Cavanaugh in those little shorts! But you would certainly brighten up headquarters like that, yes indeed."

The other man advances on him, getting into his face and forcing him back to his car. "Shut the fuck up, Crowe, and get your drag ass back to the station and get me some motherfucking crime techs."

Crowe does as he's told, but not before looking at something behind Jane, smirking, and licking his lips at it.

"Watch your fucking face, Crowe." Jane snarls it at him, but he just smiles and ducks into the car.

"Jane?" The voice behind her is soft, hesitant. Jane closes her eyes for a second, gathers herself, and turns to face the music.

"You're a detective?" Maura seems less mad than Jane had anticipated. More curious, with an odd note of hopefulness in her eyes.

"I—yes. Look, I swear, I'll explain everything in like two minutes, okay? I just really need to talk to Barry, alright?"

Maura nods, softly, but grabs Jane's arm to keep her from walking away. "I'm going to have to examine your back later, Jane. You hit the ground pretty hard."

Images of herself, shirtless, and Maura's hands running all over her. "Um, yeah, good idea." Maura drops her hand, and Jane turns to the man, waiting by his car.

"And Jane?" She turns back. "Thank you for protecting me."

They just almost died, so Jane doesn't swallow back her response. "Always."

Maura's smile is blinding.

* * *

Jane walks over to Frost, who is cordoning off the area with crime scene tape. Jane helps as she talks him through what little she saw and heard. They check the area for bullets, and find both rounds embedded about ten feet up a tree trunk that was a few feet behind where Jane and Maura were at the time.

They stand underneath it, staring up at the bullet holes. "Huh," Jane says. "He's a bad shot."

"That's not conclusively true."

Jane and Frost both whip around to the sound of the definitive voice behind them. Barry takes in the small gorgeous creature in front of them before turning to Jane for an explanation.

"Uh, Maura, this is Barry, he works with me. He's trying to earn his badge. Barry, this is Maura. She's one of the ladies on the show."

Undaunted by Jane's cursory introduction, Maura merely sticks out her hand to him. "Doctor Maura Isles, forensic pathologist with Mass General."

Frost shakes it enthusiastically. "Officer Frost, BPD forensic computing division. And I prefer to go by Frost, which Jane knows and simply chooses to ignore."

Jane rolls her eyes. "I told you, Barry. I'll call you Frost when you make your shield. Until then, you get to choose between Barry and turd."

Frost rolls his own eyes, turning his back on her and refocusing on Maura. "Hey, are you that new pathologist everyone is talking about? The one with the new way to determine cause of death in burn victims?"

Maura's cheeks flush and she ducks her head a bit. "Well, yes, I suppose so."

"Damn! That's awesome." He seems like he's about to ask why such a successful pathologist took a leave of absence from her job to be on _The Bachelor_, so Jane interrupts him.

"Okay, but, Maur, what do you mean this isn't a bad shot? It's 10 feet in the air! We were nowhere near here!"

"You're assuming he was aiming for us."

"Uh, what else would he be aiming for?"

"Well, I clearly cannot answer that question, Jane, but I will say that if he were in a car, which I believe is what I heard you tell Officer Frost, it would be very unlikely that he could have hit this tree while aiming for us."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Jane wants to laugh at Frost for calling her doctor, until she realizes that maybe its disrespectful that she never has. At a loss for words, Jane merely follows the two of them to the middle of the street.

Maura makes quick work of analyzing the tire tracks burned into the pavement ("well, I can't say conclusively, of course, but it looks to me to be a late 1990s model Cadillac") and then squats slightly, putting herself in a high chair pose. Jane does her best not to be distracted.

"Taking into account the average height of a seat in a sedan such as late 1990s Cadillac, as well as the average height of a male person, I can roughly estimate that the gun would have, most naturally, been held at this height to hit us with the bullets." She points her fingers like a child playing cops and robbers. "However, to hit a target that high up, at this close range, I would have to angle the gun quite steeply." She raises her fingers significantly. "It is statistically improbable for an inexperienced shot to hit two targets as close together as the marks we see in the tree, so I feel comfortable exploring a scenario in which the shooter is relatively practiced, unaffected by common issues such as recoil and even the movement of the vehicle. Thus, due to the steep angle required to hit the tree at ten feet, four inches, as he did, the shooter was, most likely, not aiming at Jane and myself. He could not have hoped to hit us with the gun angled this way."

Maura drops her "gun" and stands up straight, turning to look at Jane and Frost, who are desperately trying to pick their jaws up off the ground. Frost recovers first, and jumps in to ask her a bunch of clarifying questions about angles and types of guns and barrel lengths.

Jane takes longer to recover. She's never been so enamored of anyone. She'd thought she had it bad for Maura the lonely genius, for Maura the sexy outcast, for Maura the socially inept flirt. But this? This Maura the badass boss of the crime scene?

Jane was completely unprepared for how hot and how awe inspiring and, somehow, still how goofy and adorable this new Maura is.

* * *

After the crime scene techs come and Jane and Maura give their official statements, they're released. They start to walk slowly back to the house, and, after a few quiet moments, Maura breaks the silence.

"So. You're a detective."

"Yeah. I, uh. Yeah." Jane clears her throat, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. To her immense surprise, Maura reaches over and takes her hand.

"I'm not mad at you, Jane. I just want to understand."

Jane looks down at their linked hands in complete shock. "I thought you'd hate me!" The words pour out of her. "You've confessed all these things to me, and told me all these secrets about yourself, and I like, forced my friendship on you, and I haven't even told you my real name!"

"Were you investigating me?"

"No. No, Maura, I promise."

"Did you lie to me about anything important? How you felt about things or," she falters for a moment. "Or how you felt about me?"

"No! No. Just about my job, that's it. Oh, and my last name. But really, that's it. Everything else, all the time that we've spent together, it's all been real. I promise."

Maura squeezes her hand, and Jane realizes she's been gripping it incredibly tightly. She slackens her grip a bit, but Maura squeezes back harder.

"Then how could I be mad, Jane? You were doing your job."

It seems too simple, but Jane's too pleased to care.

"I would like to know why, though."

"Oh, yeah! Of course." And, swinging their hands between them, they slowly walk the rest of the way back as Jane finally tells Maura everything.

* * *

It's later that night and you've just finished getting ready for bed. You're pulling back the covers as you hear the door to your room creak open, soft footsteps enter, and then the sound of the door being quietly, but firmly, shut.

"Jane." Her voice has never sounded like this. Low, wet, heavy. You turn around slowly, feeling like the air is suddenly made of molasses.

Maura is standing near the door with a look of determination on her face. As her eyes rake over you, something predatory shines out of them.

You take a step toward her.

"Jane." A little more desperate, with a hint of warning.

You take another step.

It's a small room. Only one step left.

You take it.

"Jane." It's a sigh, this time, as your body invades her personal space. She's a magnet, she's your magnet, and you can't even think about resisting her pull in this heavy darkness.

She puts her hands up on your chest, where your lapels would be if you wore a suit to bed, and manages to both pull you in closer and keep you away from her at the same time.

"Jane." Her voice sounds like it's coming from far away. Like she has forgotten how to speak and has to pull each sound from the recesses of her mind. "Jane, I'm so glad you're a detective."

Somehow your hands have floated to her hips. "Why?"

She shudders at the sound of your voice. "Because I have been so…attracted to you. I have—wanted you. So badly. But I couldn't understand why you would do this work you hate. Why someone I found so brilliant and compelling and driven…" She seems to get lost for a moment, distracted by how intensely she's staring at your lips. But after a moment she finds herself again. "Your job didn't fit with the rest of you. And until I made sense of that, I couldn't let myself move forward. But this, Jane? This." Tantalizingly breathy. "It changes everything."

And you don't need her to say that it changes everything for the better. Because you're drowning in each other's lips and you haven't kissed yet. Because you can finally take a breath.

But you have to ask. "Move…forward?"

"Yes, Jane." She breathes. "Forward." And she slips her hands around your neck for the second time today and she pulls you down to her again. But this time you don't resist. You sink into it and you let her kiss you.

At the touch of her lips, the icy blue shard inside of you turns to honey and melts your insides. And the air is molasses and language is forgotten and all there has ever been is her. And after some amount of time, she reaches over, snaps off the light, and walks you backwards to your bed. And you simply pray that your heart won't explode until after it's over.


	8. Chapter 8

Jane rolls over and can't quite figure out why she's surprised to be alone in bed. She's always alone in bed. But the sheets feel strange against her, and as she looks down and notices she's topless, everything comes flooding back.

Yesterday, Maura had found out she was a detective.

And last night, Maura had…what was the word for it? She didn't proposition Jane, exactly, or seduce her. She had just walked into Jane's room, oozing sex, and Jane had nearly lost herself in Maura's spell. They'd kissed, they'd done things that resulted in Jane's bra and pajama top's current undignified positions in the corner of the room, and they'd fallen asleep together.

Jane wishes heartily that Maura were still in bed with her, not only for round two but just so she could be completely sure it really happened. And that it might happen again. But checking her phone, Jane realizes it's already 8am and she's nearly late for her shift. She throws on her shirt and runs into the bathroom down the hall to shower (trying to convince herself its necessary even though it means washing the smell of Maura off her body), grinning as she plays last night on a repeat loop she knows she'll never get sick of.

* * *

_Kissing Maura is like nothing you've ever imagined. It's impossible, it's incredible, it's completely surreal. You can't stop thinking about how good it feels but at the same time you're completely incapable of thought. Her cheeks and her neck are so soft under your thumbs and you pull back and gently kiss the tip of her nose and she wrinkles it at you and you feel so safe. She's so small and narrow in your arms and so strong and soft and feminine and everything at one. And she's also frighteningly good at this. You'd be worried about your own skill except for the fact that she's making it pretty clear she likes what's happening._

_She walks you backwards and your legs hit the bed and then somehow you're on your back with her hovering over you. She hasn't stopped kissing you for a second and you hope that sentence is true for the rest of your life. She whispers your name against your lips, just a breath of a word, and you feel tears prick your eyes, just for a second._

_She gently lowers her body flush onto yours and the entire world slips away._

* * *

The second Jane hits the bottom of the stairs to begin her shift she realizes Brockton is in the house. There are a ton of cameramen and all the girls are much perkier than they usually are in the mornings. Jane instantly knows that this means she won't get to abscond with Maura for a while like she'd hoped. _Damn_.

Jane realizes that she has no idea how Maura plans to deal with this new development: if she'll ask to leave the show or just stop expressing interest in Brockton and let him eliminate her in a few weeks so she can stay with Jane longer. Hoping she finds Maura so she can ask her quickly, Jane avoids the producers and pokes her head into each room, ostensibly looking for Brockton but definitely looking for Maura.

She finds them together.

Jane finds them together and her blood turns to ice water and the shard that had completely melted inside her starts to crystallize.

Jane finds them together and he is standing behind her and he has his hands on her hips.

Jane finds them together and she's looking coyly over her shoulder at him and she's laughing.

Jane finds them together and she's flirting with him and six hours ago she was saying Jane's name like a prayer.

Jane finds them together and her heart shatters.

* * *

_For your thirteenth birthday your pop gave you a blue suede jacket and you loved it like nothing else in the world. You loved everything about it – how it fit, how it looked, how you felt in it. But mostly you loved how it felt under your fingertips. You'd spend hours lost in daydreams, gently running your fingers up and down your arms or across your chest. It was impossibly smooth and soft and warm and you couldn't get enough of it. The day you grew out of it was one of the saddest days of your life, and over the years you've found yourself missing it more than you'd care to admit._

_But now you don't have to miss it anymore. You've finally found something better. Something even softer and smoother and much warmer to run your fingers over until you die. Still on top of you, Maura sits up to pull her own shirt off, and your hands are drawn to her ribcage like magnets. And the second your fingers hit her skin, you forget all about that jacket. You forget about everything you've ever liked, because nothing even comes close._

_And when she pulls your shirt off and your torsos come together you're surprised you don't faint. _

_And you're pretty sure her breasts really are a black hole because you are never ever emerging from them. Not for a second. Unless it's to kiss her, in which case, hell yes, but better keep a hand on them just in case they get any ideas._

_And it's silent in the room except for your breathing and every once in a while when she whispers your name._

* * *

Jane gathers up the rubble of her heart, straightens her shoulders, and, with her best authoritative cop walk, marches into the room. She heads straight to Maura and Brockton, doing her best not to notice his hands creeping closer to her ass but knowing the image is burned into her brain for all time.

"Maura, I need to see you for a minute." Her voice is harsh, but she's just lucky she's not ugly crying.

Maura is taken aback. "Jane, I'm a bit busy…" She gestures to Brockton, like Jane is supposed to understand that he comes first.

Jane grits her teeth. "Now, Maura." Her eyes narrow, and, not having any idea what's happening here but clearly feeling a dangerous vibe, Brockton slowly removes his hands from Maura's body.

Maura takes a sharp breath in. "Fine." The word is short, clipped. Brusque.

Jane hardens her heart and leads the way to their living room, careful not to let an inch of her skin brush Maura's.

The second they're alone behind the closed doors of the living room, Maura whirls around, her eyes flashing dangerously. "What the hell was that, Jane?"

Jane's jaw hits the floor. "What was that? Are you kidding? Do you have amnesia? What the hell was _that_, Maura?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why the fuck were you flirting with him like that?"

Maura explodes. "Because you told me to!"

Jane explodes. "THAT WAS BEFORE."

"BEFORE WHAT?"

"BEFORE, GOD—Are you fucking serious right now?" Jane stutters for a moment, and then breaks. She takes a beat, then, quietly, to the floor, "Are you serious? Did it mean so little to you?"

Maura softens, just a bit. "No, Jane. I – no. It meant a lot, it did."

Jane looks up at her. "Then why? Out there, with him, why?"

"Jane, it, it meant a lot, but it doesn't change anything."

Fury rises up in Jane, raising her body temperature and scrambling her brains. "How the hell does that not change anything?"

Maura blinks rapidly, trying her best to keep up with Jane's rapidly shifting mood. Finally she says, softly but firmly, "I'm here to win Brockton, Jane. I've been very clear about that."

Jane looks at her like she's speaking Klingon. "I – still?"

"Yes. Still."

Anger and devastation and self-loathing. "Then what the fuck was last night about, Maura? If you're here with him, why the hell did you come to me last night?" _Come to me, come for me, come with me. _She hates that she can hear the tremble in her voice.

"Last night was about us, Jane. Not about him."

The tiny pieces of her heart turn bitter. "Is that what you'll tell yourself when you're fucking him?"

Maura pales with fury. "How dare you."

Jane plows on. "So when you're taking your turn to fuck him, what will you tell yourself then? That it's fine cause you've both fucked other people in this house?" She can't control her words because one hundred percent of her willpower is going to not crying.

Maura slaps her across the face, hard. "Fuck you, Jane."

Jane looks her dead in the eye. "No Maura, I think you're the only one who's going to be fucked from now on." She turns on her heel and stalks out, leaving Maura standing quite alone.

* * *

_There are moments when it's awkward. When you both have no idea what you're doing, and she elbows you in the neck or you accidentally squash one of her truly delightful breasts between your bodies. And you wince and she does this cute doctor face where she assesses the damage and then you both laugh and hold onto each other._

_It shouldn't still be sexy but it is, and you're trying not to think about romance but this is perfect._

_And then she kisses you again and you do this thing that she really seems to like, and she moans softly against your lips. It takes a moment for you to realize what she's said. "Detective."_

_You roll her onto her back and look down at her. "Badge bunny." You say, raising a cocky eyebrow at her._

_She takes a beat and you realize she doesn't know what that is. She gamely launches into a lesson on the etymology of the terms, trying vainly to connect them and make it sound like she knows what she's talking about. _

_You laugh and gather her up into you. She's belligerent at being interrupted. She's fucking adorable and also topless._

"_Maura. Lecture later. Right now, shut up and kiss me."_

_Instead, turns out she's kind of a biter._

* * *

The next few days are pure agony. Jane refuses to speak to Maura, going so far as to leave whatever room Maura enters if the job allows it. Maura tries knocking on her bedroom door, but finds it locked against her. She stakes out the big TV when the Red Sox are on and Jane doesn't even show. She writes her a note and Jane tears it in half and hands it back to her without even a second of eye contact. She invites Jane out for a run and is brusquely told that no one is allowed to leave the premises for any reason. Jane goes so far as to hand her a copy of the contract she signed, pointing her to subsection 6b.

The only time Maura can get Jane to speak to her is when a producer is near. Jane is still trying to keep up her cover as a PA, so she has to do a good job in front of her bosses. After two full days of being shut out, it's a situation Maura mercilessly exploits.

At first, she just delights in hearing Jane's voice as she answers some inane question about what time dinner is or what the shooting schedule is. Then she progresses to asking Jane for help moving a couch or settling a dispute. On the third day, frustrated as hell, Maura marches up to Jane, pulls her shirt up to her ribs, and sweetly asks Jane to fix her microphone pack and re-tape the wire that snakes around her hip, up her stomach, and disappears under her bra to emerge, triumphant, in her cleavage.

She feels Jane's eyes burning holes in her until, after what was probably much too long, Jane grabs her arm and pulls her away from the group.

Jane is silent as she hauls Maura up the stairs. Maura doesn't even realize where they're going until Jane closes the bedroom door behind herself and spins Maura around to face her.

Maura is pretty sure this is the part where they have angry makeup sex, but she's wrong.

"No." Jane's voice is soft but firm, and sounds a little strangled.

"Pardon?" Maura tries to play it polite to cover her disappointment that they aren't having makeup sex and her distraction at seeing this bed again.

"No. You don't get to do this to me, Maura. You don't get to fuck me and then reject me and then take off your shirt and beg me to touch you in front of twenty people. No. You don't get to do that."

Choosing to ignore, for the moment, how offended she is that Jane called what they'd shared "fucking," Maura simply asks, "Then what do I get to do?"

"To me? Nothing. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"No, Jane. That's not what I want. I want…everything." Maura tries to walk towards her, but Jane holds out a hand to stop her.

"You can't have everything. You have to choose."

"Why?"

"Because, Maura. That's how this works. You choose me or you choose him. You don't get both of us."

"Please, Jane. Please, don't ask me to do this." Jane can see the tears welling up in Maura's eyes but she can't let herself feel them.

"You have to."

Maura grinds her hands together and one tear spills over. She looks down at the floor and whispers. "I choose him."

Before she can cry, Jane turns away from Maura and wrenches the door open. "Then get out." Her voice isn't anywhere near steady but it's all she can do. Just hold on until she leaves, just wait until she's out.

"Jane." She looks up, desperate, but all she sees is a pale mask.

"Get out."

Maura nods, softly, and walks slowly past Jane and through the doorway.

The sound of sob freezes her feet. A hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, pulling her back inside.

"God, fuck, NO." Jane slams the door shut and leans with one hand up against it, keeping Maura inside. "No." Jane is crying now; the tears are running down her cheeks and Maura feels her own start to fall freely.

"What are you doing?" Not accusatory, just curious.

"No. God fucking damn it, Maura, I'm not letting you pick him. I'm not…I'm not just going to roll over and let you walk away from me. Fuck, Maura, I…look, okay, look." Jane furiously wipes her face with the backs of her hands and Maura's heart contracts with pain. "You said that guy in Africa didn't fight for you, and he didn't care when you left. I'm not – no, Maura. No. I'm fighting for you. I'll fight him for you, I'll, fuck, I'll go ten paces and draw, I don't know. I don't care. Maura, no. Please. You can't pick him. You can't. He's awful and I can give you anything, Maura, I'll give you anything."

They both stand there for a moment, shocked at how raw Jane's words are. They look at each other, both crying heavily, and Jane has never felt so vulnerable. Maura has never been the object of such fierce desire. She has never felt so loved in all her life.

Maura's breath hitches and she sobs out two words. "I can't."

Jane doesn't yell, but Maura almost wishes she would. The defeat in her eyes nearly demolishes her. "Why the fuck not?" She asks it softly, like she doesn't expect an answer.

Maura doesn't know how to make this better. She doesn't know how to make Jane's pain stop or to keep her intestines from ripping themselves out of her body in protest. So she does what she always does. She tells the truth.

"I can't be gay, Jane."

Jane looks up at her, disbelieving. "What?"

"I can't be gay. I just can't."

"A little late for that, isn't it?"

"No, I – I mean I can't leave here with you instead of him."

Very carefully, Jane drops all of her walls, and lets her eyes tell Maura how deeply she's in this. "Why not?"

"Because all my life I've been _almost_ right." Maura is crying freely again, but her voice is surprisingly steady. "I was always pretty but not the good kind, kind that intimidates people. I'm smart but the kind of smart that alienates people instead of impressing them. I was always polite but not polite enough to cover up how strange I was. I have beautiful clothes but I wear them at the wrong times. I became a doctor but the kind that makes people think there must be something wrong with me. And I'm so close to having one thing be good enough, to having one thing be just the way it's supposed to be. I came here to get a man, Jane, and if I came home with a woman instead? No. I…I just can't do this to myself again. Not when I'm so close. So if being with him means I can't be with you…"

"Maura, please." It's a whisper, a plea, a prayer.

But it will go unanswered.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I can't."

And she opens the door and walks out and all Jane can hear are her unspoken words. You are not good enough for me.

* * *

_She rocks gently on top of you and nothing has ever been this perfect. Her body is incredible but you can't stop looking into her eyes._

_You're coming so close, and she bends down and kisses you deeply._

_She presses her forehead to yours and says only "For me, Jane." And you do._

_And she relaxes softly on top of you and she's beautiful and sated and boneless. And you don't have to hold it back anymore so you tell her. "Always."_


End file.
